


Alfred's Wonderful Christmas Erection

by kearwig



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Multi, Parrots, Pirates, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kearwig/pseuds/kearwig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Christmas, even Gotham can put down its weapons and criminal intent for the festive season - or so Alfred hopes. But Bruce has his suspicions...and then the incessant tapping of a peg leg heralds the start of a Christmas the whole Batfamily will remember.</p><p>Who is the mysterious interloper who calls himself the Fingerpuppet?</p><p>What is his shocking secret?</p><p>What is Kiki the Batparrot hiding?</p><p>CHRISTMAS IS COMING</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alfred's Wonderful Christmas Erection

“This is going to be the best Christmas ever!” thought Alfred. The goose was in the oven, there was a tree in every room and at last they were all gathered together. Even the criminals of Gotham seemed to be taking the holiday season off. He plucked an errant pine needle from his shoulder and went into the study to examine the festive scene; snow-dusted bookcases, lights twinkling across the wingback chairs and a festive crown on the bust of old master Wayne.

Now all that was needed was for the rest of the family to turn up.

***

“Ow! Bruce, you got jizz in my eye again!” Dick ejaculated while rubbing his eye with a handkerchief. Bruce stood by the dying embers of the fire, breath misting as he rubbed his hands. “Humbug”, he grumbled. He’d had to tear the tinsel from around Dick's neck. Bruce couldn't stand Christmas, he hated the fake bonhomie, and all the presents he had to buy. Not to mention it was really hard to get the Batmobile started in the cold. And bloody Alfred always took it so seriously! He probably had the goose cooking right now, the sod.

 The lifts back to the house weren't working so it was a long trudge up the stairs. There was a party hat on his desk. He shoved it into the shredder and picked up the latest set of Wayne  Industries accounts. Overheads were up this year. And staffing was a constant drain. A call to Scrunchborne and Marley, LLP is needed.

Bruce picked up the telephone. Dead.

“Why did I buy Gotham Telecoms?” Bruce thought angrily.

A knock on the door roused him from his financial reverie.

“Mr. Wayne, sir,” a blue-nosed Alfred broached. Not this again – he was going to ask about coal, like a crumpled and penurious broken record.

“Would you mind if I were to unlock the coal bunker and retrieve a couple of lumps?”, Alfred shivered.

“Alfred, I'll be here in my study all night. The Joker is plotting something and I need to get ahead of the game. We won't need any coal for the great hall.”

“Very well, Master Wayne, I shall comply with your wishes.” Alfred retreated from the room.

***

Outside the office Dick took hold of Alfred's arm, “Don't worry Alfred, I'll take care of it, like I did with those charity collectors who came round last week. Bruce sent them away without a cent, something about Christmas just doesn't agree with him.”

A winter's night in Gotham was oddly beautiful. The sky was crisp and clear, and the Liberty River reflected the neon lights of downtown Gotham. Unprepossessing, even misleading, considering the evil within. A flake of snow dropped onto Dick's cheek as he forced the lock to the coalhouse. Ace the Bat Hound was chained to his kennel and scratched at the frosted earth.

He opened the hatch, and peered into the darkness. He flicked on his bat-torch and directed its beam inside: one solitary lump of coal. Fifteen minutes—if that—of heat, but still, it would forestall the hypothermia.

“Excuse me, sir--”

Dick turned around, clutching the precious piece of coal.

“I'm so cold Sir. Have you any coal to spare?”

A moment passed. The coal sat in his palm, cold but radiating potential heat. The shivering orphan looked up expectantly.

“Here you go, lad,” Dick said, dropping his last defence against the coming storm into the urchin’s calloused palm.

The bat-torch shone into nothing. The coal bunker was definitely empty. 'Damn my generosity!' Dick swished his fist into the air and immediately hugged it back into his body, the hottest thing in Gotham on this cold December night.

***

Nobody was back yet, and the goose was basically ready. The bread sauce was going to be ruined. Alfred glowered at Kiki, the Batparrot. What could be more important than Christmas?

Static burst from the Wayne Manor speaker system. “It's me, The Fingerpuppet! Me secret weakness is that I always have to have someone's finger in my bottom at all times to activate me superpowers! Also I am a sexy pirate.”

“I'm putting the mansion on lockdown, and keeping Bruce Wayne as hostage. Let's see if Batman will come and save Gotham's favourite son. Or maybe he's too busy with the boy wonder? And just to add a little spice to the occasion, I've made sure there's an explosive present. Ye he he hee!”

 

**Chapter Two**

Bruce dropped his accruals and dashed for the bust of his father, flipped back the head and pushed the button.

Nothing happened.

“What the--”

The door remained static. Bruce ran out of his study and towards the kitchen, bursting into the cinnamon-scented room and startling Kiki. A frenzy of feathers accosted his face, squawking madly until Bruce punched it to the ground. Damn Kiki! And damn Damien, bringing all these mangy animals into the house. One more of those and it'll be to the microwave with that blasted bird!o

“Alfred!”

Alfred turned from the bread sauce. “Yes, Master Wayne?”

“Why can't I get downstairs?”, Bruce spat, fuming at his inability to access the Batcave. “We're all in danger!”

“So is this bread sauce! Now sit down and I'll carve the goose.” Alfred took a carving knife from the rack and called for the Batfamily. “Dick! Jason! Tim! Steph! Damian! Barbara! Cassie! Batcow! Bubbles the Batmanatee!”

***

Bubbles the Batmanatee looked up from the Twister mat at the sound of her name.and slapped her flippers together. She knew what was coming - a delicious Christmas lunch. KELP! With a sprig of holly on top to make it festive.

Steph disentangled herself from the morass of limbs and udders, and went to the door.

The doorknob wouldn’t turn.

“What’s going on? Is someone playing a prank on us?”

“Alfred invited us over for a special Christmas, and we’re trapped without the simplest of Bat-cessories!” Barbara shouted.

“What can we do?” cried Tim.

Damien’s head popped out from between Batcow’s legs. “Another game of Twister? If Kiki the Batparrot has been hurt I’ll break someone’s arms, even if I did want to call him Bucephalus.”

“Well, we’re trapped here,” said Jason, “so there’s nothing else to do. Twister it is!”

 ***

 “Alfred! There's no time for Christmas! UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO BE THE LAST CHRISTMAS EVER!”

Alfred looked around reluctantly. “Just let me turn the hobs off and we'll see what's what.” He dusted flour off his hands onto his apron and sloped off out of the room.

Dick entered. “I gave our last piece of coal to an orphan,” he frowned.

“You’re an ass Dick, but we have bigger problems right now.”

The intercom crackled into life. “Yes, you do! Me, the Fingerpuppet, and my minion, THE CABINBOY! If Batman's not here in thirty minutes, I'll blow the place sky high!”

“But where are you?” Bruce said. “And, erm, how are we supposed to contact Batman, who I am not?”

The kitchen was silent. Bruce brooded.

***

Master Wayne never thinks of the practicalities, how does he think his coffee and Bat-muffins get down to the batcave?

Alfred clambered into the dumbwaiter and hit the batcave button, concealed behind the spatulas.

Three minutes later, Alfred was at large in the Batcave. Batman had to appear, but how? Slowly, he became convinced that as the only man there, he had to don the cape and hat with little pointy ears.

The suit was a bit saggy around the bottom, and strictly speaking around the top. But Alfred was convinced he could pull it off.

The codpiece pinched slightly as he slid it on, but Alfred's face was etched with purpose. Nothing would stop Christmas, not even a sexy, sexy pirate.

The utility belt snapped into place. He was Batman.

 

**Chapter Three**

Bruce gathered all the weapons he could find in the kitchen: knives, whisks, crème brulee blowtorches, and oven cleaner. If he couldn't use his gadgets, he was going to have to improvise. A whisk-knife? No. An oven cleaner-blowtorch? Where was Lucuis Fox when he needed him? Instead, he had Kiki the Batparrot, sqwawking away and distracting him.

There was nothing more in the mansion that could help them. Grasping Dick's hand, he charged towards the large oak door that led to the outside.

His shoulder slammed into the sturdy door fruitlessly, it didn’t move an inch.

“Damn!” spat Bruce. “The Fingerpuppet has locked the mansion down. There’s no way out!”

"Hold these cooking implements boy won- er Dick" Bruce said sticking his junk in dick's face. He needed spare hands so he could grasp his chin and ponder.

After a couple of minutes, he realised the solution was staring him in the face.

“Of course!”

He turned and looked at the security terminal.

“We can override the security settings from here!”

“But Bruce” squealed Dick, “Surely hacking into the system from here is going to be very, very hard!”

“Nonsense!” Bruce spat “I am well aware of the risks, but we must stop the Fingerpuppet now, before he takes over all of Gotham”

Bruce’s fingers flew across the keyboard, his face bathed intermittently with sodium-yellow light. Suddenly Bruce stopped. The monitor turned black. He had failed.

SECURITY COMPROMISED!

Wayne Manor’s PA system shrieked.

GAS WILL BE RELEASED IN FIVE MINUTES

It was worse than Bruce could have imagined. He turned to Dick and glowered.

“This could be the last five minutes of our lives,” said Dick .

“Then we’d we’d better make it the best five minutes of our lives,” Bruce said, clasping Dick’s semi.

“I love you, Bruce,” Dick gasped as his only true love released his rapidly expanding cock.

***

Gas, eh?

The Fingerpuppet considered this new wrinkle in his plans with nonchalance. His wiry beard was specially formulated to absorb noxious fumes. He looked back at The Cabinboy, his bare face riven with contemplation, his finger inserted squarely into The Fingerpuppet’s fundament.

“This will bring Batman out into the open all the sooner, and then all of Gotham shall be mine, ye he he hee!”

Kiki the Batparrot flapped onto his shoulder. “Ah, there ye are, my feathered fifth columnist, my sqwawking spook.” The Fingerpuppet grinned and reached into his pocket for a cracker. “I couldn’t have done this without ye.”

There was a creak from behind him. Could Batman be here already?...

***

ONE MINUTE REMAINING BEFORE GASSING, the tannoy shrilled.

Lying on the floor below, bathed in a warm afterglow, Bruce and Dick lay, their glistening nakedness bathed in the red glow of the warning lights.

“Well I don’t know about gas,” Bruce smiled, “but your ass is mighty fine.”

THIRTY SECONDS REMANING

Dick nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. If he had to die, this is the way he’d like to go.

A rubbery squeak made him lift his head. Looking upwards, he noticed a familiar codpiece.

“Hello, Master Wayne and--” Alfred glanced down and paused “--not-so-little Master Wayne.”

Dick was briefly confused  by this fairground-mirror Batman before realisation dawned: it was Alfred - and Batman. There was some slippage around the neck, but he was clearly the Batman in the room.

“Alfred!”

“The problem has been dealt with,” said Alfred, pressing a single key on the terminal, “and so has the gas problem.”

“Well, Alfred,” said Bruce,  rousing himself. “Christmas is a time for sharing…”

 

**The End**


End file.
